


All Sewn Up

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [101]
Category: House M.D., Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 12:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8446576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, "I Think I'll Need a Band-Aid" (Trout Fishing in America)" and the 2016 Shoobie Monster Fest.John Sheppard and his team take on a stitched-together monster at a hospital in New Jersey. AU version of SPN Season 3 ep Time Is On My Side





	

“I don’t like this at all,” John said. “We’re going in vulnerable and basically unarmed, and we have hardly a clue of what we’re facing.”

“We’re facing your standard Frankenstein’s Monster,” Dean said. “Stitched together from corpse parts, scared the hell out of the patients, abducted a handful of hospital staff, stole pieces from them. Police have no leads, except for one witness who saw a stitched-together guy grab one of the victims.”

“The pretext is two-fold,” Miko said. “The hospital staff won’t be hostile against us if they think one of us is a patient, and also it’ll get us some valuable medical data about soul magic.”

John glanced at Rodney, who looked equally skeptical of the notion. “Most doctors are quacks peddling barely better than snake oil and faith,” Rodney grumbled.

“You’re missing the point,” Lorne said. “I feel fine. Totally fine.”

They were back at the Bunker recovering from their encounter with the Wendigos - and Thanksgiving. Both Lorne and Miko had gone to see their families, and John had accepted an invitation to visit Dave and Kathy, which had left Rodney, Sam, Dean, and Vala alone in the Bunker. Only Sam and Dean had been invited last-minute to meet the rest of the Campbell hunting clan - with strict instructions not to mention the Men of Letters - which meant it was just Vala and Rodney for Thanksgiving.

It hadn’t gone well, best as John could tell, and while Vala looked only mildly chagrined, Rodney looked ready to snap necks with his bare hands.

Dean leveled Lorne with a sharp look. “You passed out in the middle of sex last night - and not the good kind of passed out.”

Sam’s eyes went wide.

“While you might feel fine,” Miko said, “you’re obviously not fine, and your declarations that you’re fine are greatly overshadowed by the fact that you’re ridiculously self-sacrificing when it comes to your team - and also Dean.”

“I said I was tired,” Lorne protested.

“No matter how tired you’ve been, you’ve never done that before,” Dean said.

“Why, because you’re just that good?” Lorne rolled his eyes. “I swear I’m fine.”

“You have been sleeping longer than usual,” John said.

Lorne huffed. “Et tu, Brutus? Fine, I’ll pretend to be a patient. But they’re going to take one look at me and send all of us packing.”

“I spoke to O’Neill’s team - Carter’s team,” Rodney said, “and Lam faked up some medical records and test results to make you look - attractive.”

“If I’m too sick,” Lorne said, “they won’t let you anywhere near me.”

“I also got Jackson to fake up a marriage certificate for you and Winchester senior,” Rodney said. He cleared his throat. “Family gets to see you, and Winchester junior is also family. For maximum patient access, one of you wants to be Winchester junior’s fiancee?”

“Why not you?” Vala asked.

Rodney glared at her. She smiled sweetly.

“Miko,” John suggested.

“I’d prefer John,” Sam said.

Dean choked on his coffee.

“Look, Vala, you’re a great actress,” Sam said, “but we’ll need your stealth and acquisition skills to get us into secure places in the hospital. Miko, you’re our other scientist - we need you running data, and you can’t do that if you’re distracted and pretexting. That’s why Rodney’s not an option either. John, though - we keep our soldiers together. And staff might be more inclined to grant us access to Lorne so as not to seem bigoted. And there’s some hereditary component to homosexuality, so -”

“I’d look like a cradle-robber,” John protested.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe I like older men.”

“Since when do you like men?” Dean demanded.

“Since when do you?” Sam shot back.

“No.” Rodney shook his head firmly. “Sheppard doesn’t have nearly the pretexting chops to handle it.”

“He’ll never learn if you don’t let him try,” Sam said reasonably.

Lorne cleared his throat. “Sheppard, what do you want?”

John studied Rodney, who looked highly irritated. John said, “If we’re pretending you’re really sick, we’re all supposed to be off-balance, so if my performance isn’t perfect, people will chalk it up to stress. And Sam’s right - I need to learn.”

“Fine. Vala, arrange for some rings. We’ll roll out tomorrow.” Rodney stood up and stomped away from the Map Table, coffee in hand.

Vala clapped her hands, delighted. “Jewelry shopping!”

“Actually,” Lorne said, “I have rings. For me and Dean.”

Dean’s expression went soft. “You do?”

“I designed them myself.” Lorne ducked his head, blushing.

Sam looked downright terrified. “Vala - Shep and I need rings.” He pushed himself to his feet, nodded at Vala.

“You’re going to have to start calling him John,” Miko said. “And use Lorne’s first name too!”

“I’m still not sure about this pretext.” John followed Sam and Vala toward the garage. “We’ll be vulnerable.”

“We’ll be fine.” Vala patted him on the arm. “So, what do you know about ring shopping?”

“For women? Enough. Never done it for a man.”

Vala waggled her eyebrows. “Maybe Sam was the one who popped the question. Sam?”

“I’ve been ring-shopping for a woman before, too.” Sam’s gaze turned shadowed for a moment.

They took the replacement sedan into town, John at the wheel, Vala shotgun to give him directions to the best jewelry stores.

“Do you actually like men?” John glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror.

“Not as often as Dean, only dated a couple.” Sam shrugged.

“I think it’s a brilliant plan, though,” Vala said.

“To pretext as to gay couples?” John huffed. “You just want to dress us up or something.”

“No, you pretexting with Sam. It’ll really rattle Rodney’s cage.” Vala cackled gleefully.

“What do you mean?” John asked.

Vala shot him a look. “Did you see the look on his face when Sam said he’d prefer you? Obviously he’s terribly jealous of the notion. With you and Sam acting all affectionate, Rodney will have no choice but to be honest about his feelings and his intentions.”

John frowned. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack. Right, Sam?” Vala grinned.

John glanced in the rearview mirror. Sam’s expression was unsettlingly blank. “Lieutenant?”

“Better start calling me Sam,” he said.

“Was that your intention? With the pretext suggestion?”

“It has the most tactical merit,” Sam said, meeting John’s gaze. “And if it has the beneficial side-effect of settling the team dynamics, why not?”

 

*

Why not? Because ring shopping with Vala was a nightmare.

“What about these? They’re lovely.”

“Pretty sure Liberace wouldn’t touch those with a ten-foot pole,” John said.

Vala pouted. This was the fifth pair of rings she’d offered up. Each pair was gaudier and more bedazzled than the last.

“Look, Vala, if we’re going to sell this,” Sam said, “it has to be believable. No one’s going to believe John and I are proud rainbow flag wavers from San Francisco. Not every gay man is like Jack from _Will & Grace_. Which I swear I will kill Dean for showing you.”

“Sam’s right.” John peered into one of the jewelry cases. “Look, a pair of simple bands, functional, not going to snag on anything. Discreet.”

“The whole point of jewelry is that it’s decorative, not functional,” Vala protested.

“Wedding rings perform a specific function, which is to say that one person is married to another. Although - if we’re just engaged, then -”

“A lot of modern couples will both wearing engagement rings. And we’d best do it, to sell it.” Sam laughed softly to himself. “The last time I went ring shopping, it was with Dean. He kept suggesting ugly rings really deliberately, but he was also the one who found the perfect ring.”

John glanced at him. “Who was she?”

“Jess. She was a nurse. The demon who killed my mother killed her right before I started law school. That was how Rodney picked me. He came to investigate the crime scene - he was just a tech for O’Neill’s team back then - and he saw me and Dean, and he started getting ideas.” Sam shook his head. “What about you?”

“I went ring-shopping alone,” John said. “But I did solicit an awful lot of advice from Mitch, Dex, and Holland before I went. They were all hitched, had good ideas about how to figure out Nancy’s ring size and the rest. Also they did some recon for me, because their wives were friends with her.”

“The first time I was married,” Vala said, “rings were not the preferred token. But I’ll have you know I was worth a whole herd of sheep.” She flagged down the confused-looking sales clerk. “These ones. Right here. That look like damascus steel.”

Sam’s eyes lit up. “Damascus steel?”

“You nerd,” John said fondly.

Sam nudged him. “You’re one to talk. You have a masters in some mathematical thing that I’m pretty sure is made up.”

“Combinatorics.” John smiled at him. They were practicing being affectionate with each other.

The clerk came over and fetched the tray of rings from the display case. Sam and John tried them on, found ones with designs they liked.

“Three months’ pay, isn’t that the rule?” John asked.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “You’re really old-fashioned, aren’t you?”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is _traditional_ , and thanks for continuing to make me feel like a cradle-robber,” John said. “Now, I’m no artist, but I think this is perfect.”

The ring he chose for himself was black with a line of white gold through it; Sam’s was the opposite.

Sam slid the ring onto John’s left hand, then traced his fingertip over the ring. “Something you trying to tell me?”

John searched Sam’s gaze. Sam’s eyes were like his, officially hazel on his driver’s license, but so many different colors at different angles and in different light. “What do you mean?”

“All that darkness, one sliver of light?”

John shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe you’re my light.” He thought of the fireflies Miko had given him. He’d released them once they made it back to the bunker, but he’d spent a lot of time that night, watching them flicker and dance.

Sam’s expression went soft, and he leaned in for a kiss.

John leaned in to meet him, but the gesture ended up being more perfunctory than romantic.

The clerk cleared her throat. “Anything else you’d like to see?”

John pulled back. “No. These are perfect.”

Vala smiled smugly. “My taste is impeccable.”

Sam reached for his wallet, ostensibly for the company card, but John shook his head. “I’ve got this.”

Once the rings were purchased, they bade farewell to the patient clerks and headed for the car.

“I’ll give you fond,” Vala said, “but not affectionate and dating. Not yet. Keep working, boys.”

“We’re warming up,” John said defensively.

“Well, warm faster.” 

*

Sam, John, Dean, and Lorne were the only ones who were going to be working with the hospital staff under pretext. Everyone else was serving strictly as support, staying in the bus, which was parked at the far end of the hospital parking lot.

The Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was supposed to be world-class for diagnosing and treating conditions that no one else could identify and handle. It was a teaching hospital, which meant there were med students and doctors doing residency hanging around. John figured students were the best of both worlds - doing their best to treat people, but also young and inexperienced enough to be open-minded. Also, they didn’t have as much authority as actual doctors, so if they saw anything strange, the team would be better able to get away with lying about it if they were caught.

The hospital administrator who admitted them was a lovely woman named Dr. Cuddy, with curly dark hair and bright eyes. She met with Lorne and Dean personally in her office to assure them that they would have the best medical care the facility had to offer - namely, Dr. House’s diagnostic team.

John and Sam waited outside her office while Dean and Lorne met with her, but Miko had activated the microphone in Dean’s phone for surveillance purposes, and everyone, save Dean and Lorne, was tuned in via bluetooth.

“For the last time, I’m fine,” Lorne said. It had been his mantra for basically the entire bus ride.

Sam and John had willingly rearranged the driving schedule so they could talk and figure out what their story was going to be, if anyone pressed for details.

“If you really were fine, the doctors wouldn’t be willing to admit you,” Dean said patiently.

Ordinarily that might have been true, but someone from another hunting team - John hadn’t realized there were multiple teams - was a medical doctor and had forged Lorne’s medical history sufficient for him to get admitted and subjected to multiple tests, which would guarantee them access to the hospital for at least forty-eight hours.

“Our doctors are here to make sure that you are fine and to keep you that way,” Dr. Cuddy said. “Now, if you could just sign here -”

John heard someone approaching with an irregular gait and was immediately alert. Irregular gait meant inhuman, could mean their target.

Or a man in jeans and a t-shirt, walking with a cane.

He breezed right past Dr. Cuddy’s receptionist, paused outside the glass doors of her office. He pointed at the door with his cane, caught John’s gaze.

“Is she in the middle of an important meeting?”

“Sort of,” John offered.

The man - older, unshaven, with piercing blue eyes - smiled, not nicely. “Good!” And he pushed the door open. “I need you to let me cut this kid’s brain open,” he said, and the door closed.

“House!” Dr. Cuddy exclaimed.

John and Sam looked at each other. That was the famous doctor who was going to attempt to diagnose Lorne?

“Well?” House demanded.

“House, I’m in the middle of a meeting. With your newest patient.” Dr. Cuddy cleared her throat. “It’s a rare honor, actually,” she said, tone sweeter; she was addressing Dean and Lorne. “Not everyone gets to meet Dr. House even when he’s on their case.”

“That’s...nice,” Dean said, sounding bewildered.

“Dying kid here,” House said.

“Give me the form,” Dr. Cuddy said, “and look at Mr. Lorne’s file.”

There was a rustling of paper, and then House said, “Let me guess, new hubby didn’t tell you he cheated on you, and now he’s sick, and he’s worried it’s HIV but you’re all sweet and concerned and think he has some exotic disease?”

Sam’s eyes went wide.

John really, really wanted to look inside the office and see what was going on, but he wasn’t supposed to know what was going on in there, so he poked at his phone instead. Judging by the way Dr. Cuddy’s receptionist had buried her face in her hands, what was going on was a professional disaster. This House guy made Rodney at his most irritated seem like a peach.

“Actually,” Dean said, “I’m the one who thinks he’s sick, but he keeps insisting he’s fine.”

“I would never cheat on Dean and he would never cheat on me. Thanks for thinking I’m the sweet one, though.”

John had forgotten how good could Lorne could be at sarcasm.

“Everyone cheats, everyone lies, and -” House whistled. “That _is_ interesting.”

“You can perform the requested procedure on your patient,” Dr. Cuddy said, and there was another rustling of paper.

“Thanks, Mommy.”

“Now, please let me finish my meeting.”

“I’ll be seeing you later, Sweetcheeks. With a scalpel. Hope you like pain. Bet you do, under all that sweetness. I sense leather and whips in your closet.” And House swept out of Dr. Cuddy’s office, carrying a piece of paper and a manila file. He saluted at John and Sam as he went, his smile radiating sarcasm.

“I assure you,” Dr. Cuddy said, “that Dr. House is brilliant at what he does, even though his bedside manner is - unorthodox.”

“We understand,” Lorne said. “Genius is always eccentric and requires much patience, selective deafness, and frequent donations of baked goods.”

Rodney spluttered indignantly on the other end of the line.

“Have you worked with Dr. House before?” Dr. Cuddy asked.

“Haven’t had the pleasure,” Lorne said mildly. “But we look forward to the challenge.”

“I appreciate your patience and understanding. A nurse will escort you to your room.” The office door swung open, and Dr. Cuddy showed Lorne and Dean out.

Sam and John were on their feet immediately.

“Well?” Sam asked. He played the part of the concerned brother very naturally.

“They’re just going to run some tests for now, but you’ll see once and for all that I’m fine,” Lorne said.

Dr. Cuddy smiled at Sam. “We’ll take good care of your brother and his husband.”

“Thank you.” Sam shook her hand, then reached out, curled his fingers through John’s. “Let’s go get you settled, all right?” 

*

Dr. Cameron - pretty, round-cheeked, with solemn eyes - was the one who came to check on Lorne once he was sitting on his hospital bed and wearing a hospital gown over his boxer briefs. She introduced herself and took his vitals, which was something a nurse or CNA could have done, but John got the sense that things at this hospital were unorthodox all around, as apologetic as Dr. Cuddy had been about Dr. House’s behavior.

She told Lorne to sit up, parted the fabric of his hospital gown to place her stethoscope against his skin, and she paused. “That’s a lot of tattoos.”

“They have - spiritual significance,” Lorne said.

“They’re very intricate. Beautiful.”

“Thanks. I designed them myself.” Lorne smiled at her.

Apparently Dr. Cameron, for all her calmness and professionalism, was not immune to his dimples. “Wow. That’s impressive. All right, take a deep breath for me.” She glanced at Dean, Sam, and John. “This your family?”

“Yes. Dean, my husband. His brother, Sam. John, Sam’s fiance.”

Dr. Cameron raised her eyebrows.

Dean chuckled. “I know. Whole lotta queer in a really small space.”

“You don’t look like brothers,” Dr. Cameron offered finally.

“We get that a lot,” Sam said.

“It’s really good of all of you to be here to support Evan,” Dr. Cameron said.

John shrugged. “He refused to admit he was sick, so we had to make sure we outnumbered him.”

“Hopefully he’s not sick, though,” Sam added.

“We’ll make sure he gets the care he needs. Someone will be up to draw some blood. It was a nice to meet you all.” Dr. Cameron waved and left the room.

As soon as she was gone, Dean said, “Ten bucks says she’s dating House.”

Lorne shook his head. “Bet she has a crush on him, but he doesn’t swing that way, or he just doesn’t date coworkers.”

“Which would be the wiser course of action,” Rodney said over the bluetooth, reminding them sharply of his presence. “Now, are you ready?”

“Let’s do this,” John said softly. Louder, he said, “Sam, let’s go get some coffee. You want anything, Dean?”

“A book would be nice. I didn’t think to bring one, and you know I hate reading things on my phone. Anything for you, babe?” The term of endearment sounded so natural from Dean.

“Paper and a pen? To draw.” Lorne smiled hopefully.

Dean leaned in and pressed a kiss to his brow, then lifted his chin at Sam. “I’ll pay you back.”

Sam waved him off, because that was the polite thing to do, and also anything they shelled out for would be paid for as part of the job anyway.

John and Sam split up on the first floor, John to get good coffee, Sam to pick up a book and drawing supplies. While John was standing in line at the cafeteria, Miko, Vala, and Rodney were poking through the hospital’s security feed they’d hacked into.

“Three people behind you,” Vala said. “It’s the morgue tech who reported seeing the stitched-together man.”

“Roger that,” John murmured. He glanced over his shoulder, marked his target. He paid for three cups of coffee and then set them aside, paused and knelt to fix his shoelace.

Someone bumped into him.

“Smooth,” Rodney said, all sarcasm.

“I’m so sorry!”

John stood up. The pretty red-haired girl in the green scrubs wore an apologetic expression.

“I didn’t mean to walk into you - I didn’t see you!”

“I probably should have picked a better place to tie my shoe,” John said. “No harm, no foul.” He smiled the smile that made Rodney grumble and call him _Kirk_ , glanced down pointedly at the girl’s name tag. “Tiffany.”

Even though John was usually oblivious to when people were flirting with him and when he might be accidentally flirting with people, he was aware that he was generally considered good-looking, and he wasn’t above taking advantage of that for the mission.

“That’s a whole lot of coffee for one person,” Tiffany said.

“I’m going to be here for a while, thought I’d stock up.”

Tiffany raised her eyebrows. “You could just come down here for a refill.”

“Not much fond of hospitals. I’d rather sit tight in my corner as much as possible.” John sipped some of the coffee. It really wasn’t bad. “You’re probably not freaked out by hospitals, though. Seeing how you work in one.”

“I work down in the morgue, so it’s a little extra creepy, but hey, it’s better than some wards. No one complains or talks back.” Tiffany grinned. “I guess you get used to anything after a while, though, right?”

John nodded. “Yeah.” He’d always disliked the way a lot of the officers he knew traded on their rank and uniform, but he knew how it was done. “When I was in A-stan, I thought I’d never get used to the dust and blinding sun, but after a while, it was almost like home.”

“A-stan?” Tiffany asked. She started to walk, and John followed her out of the cafeteria, to a little bench just outside. Tiffany sat, so John sat beside her.

“Afghanistan.”

“You’re a soldier?”

“I was a chopper pilot. Air Force.”

“War. That must have been scary.” Tiffany eyed him with newfound appreciation, slid a little closer.

War was something John had understood. Tactics. Troop movements. People. Bringing back the wounded, keeping a clear head while his team fought to keep the wounded alive. Blood and sun and sand and the roar of the engines. “In the end, it was all just people. A hospital, though - it probably has its share of ghosts, right?”

“No more than a battlefield, I expect.”

John huffed. “The closest we got to ghosts was Marines playing dumb pranks. You probably get the same thing, right? It’s a pressure valve. A release. The stupid laughter.”

Tiffany eyed him. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Soldiers are some of the most superstitious people you’ll meet. I might not have believed in ghosts, but out there on the sand, sometimes I saw things that are hard to explain.” John stared at the lid of his coffee cup.

“You see some of that around here,” Tiffany said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

Tiffany flicked her gaze over him, licked her lips, and then she leaned in, lowered her voice. “This is going to sound kind of crazy.”

“Lay it on me,” John said.

Tiffany’s account was more detailed than what Lorne had picked up from a tabloid or the tip line or however he found hunts, but it about tracked what they’d heard. Stitched-together man had attacked an orderly down in the morgue, and no one had seen him since. Tiffany had seen the man herself, and she had a good description of him. John hoped someone was listening in, that Lorne could attempt a sketch from Tiffany’s words, but without her, it would be hard.

What was alarming was that the man she’d described didn’t sound like a shambling zombie or a shuffling, clumsy, ham-handed green monster with a bolt in the side of his neck. This man was quick, deliberate, and intelligent.

“That’s pretty creepy,” John agreed.

Tiffany sighed unhappily. “No one believes me.” Then she ducked her head, peered up at John through her eyelashes. “Do you believe me?”

“Like I said, I saw a lot of strange things out there in the desert.” John patted her shoulder. “Keep yourself safe.”

“How did you keep safe? From the strange things in the desert.”

“Well, I had a gun,” John said, and Tiffany laughed.

“Not really an option around here.”

“This is going to seem a little hokey,” John said, “but one of the guys I served with, he swore by it.” He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out what Lorne referred to as an all-charm, a little glass vial stoppered with cork and filled with salt, consecrated iron filings, silver, gold flakes, and brass. “To ward off evil.” Everyone on the team had them. Miko and Vala wore theirs on leather cords, like kitschy gothic necklaces. Everyone else kept them on their key chains.

Lorne handed them out whenever he could, as a kindness.

Tiffany accepted it. “Thank you.”

John squeezed her shoulder gently. “Be careful, Tiffany. Now, I better get back to my corner.” He rose up, balanced all three coffee cups carefully, and headed for the elevator.

He stepped in alone, ducked his chin. “Miko, Vala, Rodney, did you get that?”

“Got it,” Vala said. “Checking the lore now.”

“I have a really bad feeling about this,” Miko said.

“You’re not the only one,” John muttered. When he stepped into Lorne’s hospital room, Sam was already there. Dean was sitting beside the bed, reading. Sam was attacking a sudoku puzzle book. John distributed the coffee. Lorne was already working on a sketch of the monster Tiffany had described.

Sam thanked John for the coffee, kissed him on the cheek in case they were being watched.

Two men in lab coats burst into the room, eyes wide and panicked. “Mr. Lorne!”

One of them was tall and blonde, the other shorter, stockier, dark-skinned.

Lorne lowered his sketchpad. “Dr. Chase, Dr. Foreman, is everything all right?”

“Thank God,” the dark-skinned man said. “You’re alive.”

Dean rose up. “Why do you sound surprised? What’s wrong?” He sounded genuinely alarmed.

The blond man scrubbed a hand over his face. “There was an incident. In the ER. The man looked just like you.”

John, Dean, and Sam, exchanged looks.

“On it,” Vala said over the bluetooth.

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine,” Lorne said. “I appreciate the concern. I’m still waiting for someone to draw blood, actually.”

The two doctors exchanged looks, and then the blond one opened a drawer, found rubber tubing, a needle, and a vial.

“John, Sam,” Lorne said, “this is Dr. Chase. He and Dr. Foreman are on Dr. House’s team.”

“Pleased to meet you,” John said.

Sam raised his coffee in salute. “Thanks for looking out for Evan.”

“Just doing our jobs,” Dr. Foreman said. “You don’t have any siblings, do you?” he asked Lorne.

“Just an older sister. Why?”

“The resemblance was uncanny,” Dr. Chase said. “Very, very uncanny.”

Was it a snake shifter?

John’s pocket buzzed. He fished his cell phone out. Text message from Vala, a photo of a man lying on what looked like a cot in the ER. The man looked exactly like Lorne. Only his face was pale and lifeless.

Vala’s next message was grim. _According to a witness, he stumbled in, mostly naked beneath the coat, covered in blood, in agony. When a nurse asked to see his wound, he refused, so she tugged the jacket open and his guts fell out. More details to come._

John lifted his head. Sam and Dean wore matching expressions of fury mixed with fear.

“So,” Dr. Chase said, “how long have you been together?”

Lorne said, “We dated for about a year, have been married for three years now.” Either he was a very smooth liar or he and Dean were capable of frightening levels of secrecy. Granted, the entire hunting business was all secrecy, but even Sam looked a little surprised.

Dr. Foreman raised his eyebrows at Sam.

“Dean kept the relationship quiet for a long time,” Sam said. “Finding out that he was dating Evan was quite a surprise.”

“Because Evan’s way out of his league,” John said easily, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, you did kinda spring John on me, so I guess we’re even.” Dean sounded gruff but fond.

John wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulders. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being the shorter person in a relationship. “Well, Sam’s way out of my league, so -”

Sam ducked his head, blushing.

Vala sent another message. _Victim is still unidentified. Swiped a sample for analysis. Initial report is that the victim was cut open and his entire liver was stolen. Whoever took said liver knew his way around a scalpel._

John thought of Tiffany’s description of the monster. In the original story by Mary Shelley, the monster’s brain had come from a random dead man who was possessed of great physical strength. This was a hospital. What if the doctor had been stitched together out of medical professionals?

“Got an ID on the victim,” Miko said over the bluetooth. “He’s a plastic surgeon from a private firm. His staff reported him missing when he didn’t show for a surgery scheduled this morning.”

John fired off a text message to the rest of the team with his working theory, then attempted to tune back into the conversation. Dr. Chase was explaining to Lorne in gentle tones about the blood sample and the upcoming tests - CT scan, MRI, EEG, EKG. Lorne nodded earnestly while Dean held his hand. The two doctors excused themselves, and John silently counted to seven to make sure they were out of earshot before he began to speak.

It was an old habit, bred in combat. Sam, Dean, and Lorne, he’d noticed, all did the same thing.

“The monster must be getting sloppy,” Rodney said over the bluetooth. “No other victims have been found before.”

There was murmuring in the background, likely Vala returning to the bus and giving samples to Miko.

“Maybe it’s weakening,” Lorne suggested.

“Or it doesn’t care about getting caught because it’s getting ready to move on,” Dean said.

Lorne scooped up the sketchpad and kept on drawing. “John, when I’m finished, could you maybe run this by the witness?”

John nodded. “Sure.” Tiffany worked in the morgue, he knew that much. He’d have to check in with Vala, Rodney, Miko, and their epic hacking skills to figure out Tiffany’s schedule, just to be safe.

He and Sam were sitting side-by-side on two of the waiting chairs, John tucked against Sam’s side while Sam wrote. The physical closeness was surprisingly nice. Sam was warm, and he smelled good. How had John never noticed that before?

“Did you get anything else?” John asked quietly.

“I managed to interview one of the patients in oncology who witnessed a CNA getting snatched as well,” Sam murmured. He was making good progress on that sudoku puzzle. “She had less of a good description than your witness did, but most of what she said tracked - how quick the monster moved, how efficient. Premeditated, it all seemed.”

John wondered how Miko, Vala, and Rodney had handled two incoming interview feeds. It was what they were good at, though, and why they stayed on the bus while everyone else was out in the field. It sounded like it had been the better plan, to send the soldiers into the hospital, because whatever kind of zombie or Frankenstein this monster was, he was quick and strong and smart, would be tough in a fight.

He didn’t sound as good as a Wendigo, though, and for that, John was grateful.

“Test results on the blood sample are back,” Miko announced over the bluetooth, and all but Lorne perked up to listen. “He’s human.”

“You know what they say about everyone having a twin,” Sam said.

Lorne looked up from his drawing, startled. Dean pointed to his bluetooth. He handed Lorne his cell phone, and Lorne plugged in his earphones, tucked one earbud into his ear, and resumed drawing. To anyone else, it would look like he was listening to music.

“Back from the morgue,” Vala chimed in. “That Tiffany is a lovely girl, John. She’s wearing the charm you gave her as a necklace already.”

“John, don’t blow your cover with Sam by flirting with women,” Rodney snapped.

“John’s just doing his job,” Sam said, “and he’s been doing fine by me.” He leaned down, brushed his lips over John’s, and John tipped his head back to accept the kiss. Being the shorter one was still so, so weird.

Even though no one from the hospital staff was watching, there were security cameras. They were still performing.

Although John had the sense that Sam’s kiss was less for the hospital security staff and more for someone else patched in to the hospital security feed.

“The body, Vala?” Lorne prodded.

“Right! So, apparently the poor lad’s liver was removed - by someone who knew their way around the scalpel. He was sewn up with - get this - silk thread, and someone had shoved maggots into his wound to help keep it clean. Only then the lad started walking around, and everything...fell out.”

Vala said _get this_ the way Sam did. John wondered if he’d started saying it.

“That sounds like the latest and greatest medical practices...from the War of 1812,” Lorne said.

“Whoever this monster is, he clearly also is unaware of modern forensic practices, because he left bloody fingerprints all over the body. I managed to snap some more photos and I’ve sent them to Miko so she can run them,” Vala continued.

“Think this monster is _from_ 1812?” Dean asked. While the hospital cameras could record visual, they didn’t record sound, so as long as everyone was behaving normally, anyone just watching would think the four men were conversing casually.

“Then you won’t get a hit on fingerprints,” Sam said.

“I just did,” Miko said. “And it makes zero sense.”

“Why?” John straightened up.

“Because one set of fingerprints is from someone who died in the 1980’s, and another from someone who died in the 1990’s,” Miko said.

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Miko, do you have our Dad’s journal at hand?”

Sam shot him a look. “What are you thinking?”

Dean shouted, “Evan!”

John, Sam, and Dean were on their feet in an instant, Dean at Evan’s side.

“He’s having a seizure,” Dean shouted. Sam went to help him.

John ran for the door, threw it open. “Help! We need a nurse! He’s seizing!”

“Did you hit the nurse panic button thingie?” Dean demanded of Sam.

Chase, Cameron, Foreman, and another doctor John didn’t recognize - older, brown hair, pleasant face - came racing into the room.

“Mr. Winchester,” Cameron said to Dean, “you need to step outside. Let us handle this.”

“I don’t understand,” Dean said, “one minute he was fine, and then he just -” He sounded terrified.

“Outside, now,” Foreman snapped.

Sam and John each caught Dean by an arm and towed him into the hallway.

More nurses ran into the room, and the three of them ended up pressing themselves against the giant glass window in an attempt to stay out of the way.

“I told him he was sick, but he wouldn’t listen.” Dean dipped his chin. “This is all your fault, Rodney. If you hadn’t bullied him into casting that spell -”

John put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’re in the hospital with the best medical care in the nation. They’ll take care of him.”

“How can they?” Dean hissed. “It’s magic doing this to him, not a disease.”

“Magic is science we just don’t understand quite yet,” Sam said. “They’ll figure something out.”

Before they could say more, the unfamiliar doctor poked his head out of the room.

“He’s asking for his husband.”

“Dean, go,” John said, putting the barest edge of command behind it.

Dean nodded. “That’s me. Is he all right?”

“He’s stable for now, but we had to re-prioritize his tests, and we need to get him in for a head CT ASAP.” The doctor beckoned, and Dean hurried into the room.

“Rodney?” Miko asked in a small voice.

“Miko,” he said, “put in a call to O’Neill’s team. We need Lam or Beckett or both over here right now. Vala, you’re with me. Sam, John, let the doctors do their job. We still have work to do. I want to get into that morgue and run some more tests. John, you’ll need to distract Tiffany. Sam, you’ll need to be his lookout.”

John nudged Sam. “Can you get in there, get Lorne’s sketch?”

Sam nodded and ducked into the room, returned a couple of seconds later with the sketchbook.

“Let’s go,” John said.

They managed to time it so John was down at the morgue first, with the other three waiting down a side hallway.

Tiffany came out of the morgue, unfastening a mask, and came up short when she saw John. She lifted a hand to the cap over her hair, self-conscious, but John smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Hey,” she said, “I thought you were going to hole up in your corner.”

“My friend had an emergency, so the doctors kicked me out.” It wasn’t a lie. “And I - didn’t want to be alone, I guess. And I couldn’t stop thinking about what you told me, and -” John held out the sketchbook. “Does this look like what you saw?”

Tiffany accepted the sketchbook, stared at the drawing with wide eyes. “Yes! Well, the face was a little longer. Do you have a pencil?”

“Not on me,” John said. “I was kicked out a little unexpectedly.”

“Is your friend okay?”

“He’s stable for now, but they have to run more tests.”

Tiffany looked John up and down. “Want to get some more coffee?”

“I think I need something a little harder, honestly, but it’s not 5PM here yet,” John said.

Tiffany smiled. She had lovely green eyes. “I totally understand. I’ll take what I can get, though, and what I can get without being fired is coffee. I need to get this last job out of my head.”

“That bad?” John asked.

Tiffany nodded. She led John toward the elevator. He changed a glance over his shoulder and saw Vala and Rodney slip into the morgue. Sam took up guard post at the door.

In the cafeteria, they got bagels to go with their coffee, and Tiffany found a pencil, made gentle modifications to Lorne’s sketch, which was incomplete at best but still far better than anything John could have done himself. Tiffany asked about John’s friend, and John explained Lorne’s symptoms honestly - tired all the time, sleeping more, general exhaustion, and just now a seizure. They were sure something was wrong with him, he was sure he was fine, and while John was glad to have been proven right, the way it had happened was awful.

“Does he have a history of seizures?” Tiffany asked.

John shook his head. “Not that I know of, which is why everyone is freaked out.” At his prodding, he managed to get Tiffany to tell him some other stories she’d accrued, other witness accounts of this frightening creature terrorizing the hospital. Her accounts were secondhand and no doubt embellished so as to make a good story, but they were valuable all the same. John hoped someone was getting this. If not, he could add it to his report later.

They were just about done with the coffee and John was trying to figure out a way to convince Tiffany to stay for a second cup when Vala said over the bluetooth, _Done!_

“John?” Tiffany asked.

John gestured apologetically at his bluetooth headset. “Sorry. Just got notice than I can go back in and see my friend.”

Tiffany smiled. “Perfect timing, huh?” She gestured to her empty coffee cup and the empty bagel plate between them.

“Perfect indeed,” John agreed. “Thanks for keeping me company and indulging my weirdness.”

Tiffany pushed the sketchbook back to him. “Thanks for believing me when no one else would.”

“Keep safe,” John said again. When Tiffany stood up, John did as well, and he waved when she departed. He went to clear away his coffee cup and plate, and then Dr. House was sliding into the booth opposite him.

“You,” House said, “are a liar and a cheat.”

John sank back down into his seat. “Excuse me?”

“I watched you, flirting shamelessly with that nurse,” House said, casually, kicking his feet up on the bench beside John and crossing his ankles and effectively trapping him in the booth. “While your friends are all upstairs, being concerned about the sick one, the sweet one, you’re down here, what, looking for a little sympathy? A little comfort?”

John took a deep breath. “Your team told us to step out of the room, and then the only person they let back in was Dean, since he’s Evan’s husband. There was no point in standing in the hallway fretting, so Sam and I decided to walk around.”

House peeked into John’s empty cup of coffee, frowned. “So you thought to flirt with a nurse?”

“I wasn’t flirting with her,” John said. Which was only half true. Yes, he’d flirted with her, but for the team, not for himself. He was just a decoy.

“I can read body language pretty damn well,” House said. “Knowing all the facts is essential to treating a patient, and not just the medical facts. If you lived anywhere nearby, I’d have assigned Crocodile Dundee and The Fresh Prince to go search your house. Your friend is up there dying because there’s something you’re not telling me. You’re pretending to be in love with Tall and Skinny, but you’re not pretending very well. Every chance you get, you’re flirting with Ginger Spice. So what’s really going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” John said. “As far as I know, Evan has no history of seizures. He’s been tired all the time, sleeping more often than usual, Dean said he fell asleep in the middle of sex one time, that’s how tired he’s been.”

House raised his eyebrows. “Really? Dean’s that bad in bed?”

John rolled his eyes. “Because Evan was tired.” He was so unused to calling Lorne by his first name. Lorne was just...Lorne. Like Madonna. Only with less singing and dancing and more weapons and baking. “Evan refused to believe he was sick.”

“What’s your dirty little secret? As a group. It’s a bit weird, don’t you think, for four men to live in each other’s pockets like that?” House leaned in. “Is it drugs? Group sex? You can tell me. I’m not the cops, and I’m totally not judging.”

Before John could fashion some kind of coherent response, because the notion of group sex with the Winchesters and Lorne was so far beyond the realm of what John had ever considered, even though he was aware that all of his teammates were attractive, House paused. Noticed the sketchbook.

Damn. John hadn’t had a chance to close it.

House stared at the sketch. “What are you doing at this hospital?”

“I got something from the journal,” Miko said.

“What is it?” Sam asked over the bluetooth.

“Meet us at the bus.” Rodney sounded grim.

John scooped up the sketchbook, rose up, stepped over House’s legs, and jumped down to the floor. “Apologies, Dr. House, but I have to go. My friends need me.” He fired off a sloppy salute, the kind that would have made his COs have a heart attack, and hurried for the door.

Sam was already at the bus when John arrived.

“How is Lorne?” John asked.

Sam nodded. “Stable. They’re running tests.”

“Beckett will be here within twelve hours,” Miko said.

John held out the sketchbook. “Tiffany made some adjustments to the sketch.”

Miko’s expression was grim. “Yeah, it’s him.”

“Him who?” Vala asked.

“Doc Benton. Sam and Dean’s father hunted him back in the 1980’s. He cut the man’s heart out, but apparently he’s still going.” Miko turned the journal around for everyone else to see.

John read quickly.

Sam read faster, made a face. “So this guy keeps himself alive by replacing his body parts as they fail. By stealing them from different people.”

“He was a doctor back in 1816,” Rodney read. “That explains the hack job on the plastic surgeon, the silk thread and the maggots.”

“If he can survive his heart being cut out,” Vala said, “how do we kill him?”

“I’m more concerned about his change in MO.” John scanned the journal some more. “John Winchester tracked this guy all over the country. Doc Benton surfaced randomly, to take parts as he needed them. Why this hospital, first of all? And why so many victims at once?”

“I bet he’s working out of this hospital,” Miko said. “Let me hack into the security database for any incident reports and let’s see if we can find him.”

Rodney nodded. “John, Sam, get back into the hospital room and keep an eye on Lorne. I don’t like how much the most recent victim looked like him.” 

*

Lorne was asleep when John and Sam arrived back at his room. Dean was sitting beside him, holding his hand and watching him. John glanced at Sam, and Sam cleared his throat.

“Hey. How’s he doing?”

Dean looked up. “Oh. The doctors say - they say his body’s shutting down, and they don’t know why.” His eyes were suspiciously bright. “It’s my fault. He gave part of his soul to me, but he gave too much, and now he’s dying.”

John glanced at the machines Lorne was hooked up to - he hadn’t been hooked up to any before - but he didn’t know enough about medicine to be able to tell whether Lorne was all right or not.

“We got a lead on the monster,” John offered.

“I heard.” Dean looked pale and miserable, just as pale as Lorne, but Lorne looked untroubled in sleep.

John thought of the picture on his phone, of the lifeless version of Lorne’s uncanny twin, and swallowed hard.

“Is there anything we can do?” Sam asked.

“Lore crawl,” Dean said. “Find something that will heal him.”

John nodded and fished in his pocket for his phone. Sam fished for his, and they sat down beside each other, tucked close, and began to search.

There was a lot on healing magic, way too much for John to read through in any useful amount of time, so John went searching for anything soul magic instead, how it was used and what its effects would be. Sam and Miko had rigged all the tablets and phones so they could access the Men of Letters library at the drop of a hat, but the digitization of the library was slow-going. They’d had an intern helping with the project once, a kid named Kevin, the one who’d taught Sam how to play the cello, but Kevin was no more, and John knew better than to ask why.

“I sent a text message to Dr. Beckett,” Sam said, “with an update on Evan’s symptoms. He said he’d shoot me a few suggestions about where to refine my search, but he hasn’t hit me back yet. I’m guessing he’s in the air.”

“Air?” John asked.

“He’s flying out from Command.”

Command, John knew, was in Colorado Springs. “I didn’t even realize there was more than one team. When I first met Rodney, Jackson was my JAG officer, and you were his paralegal.”

“Joint mission,” Sam said.

“Did you find them? The things that attacked my chopper.”

“Carter’s team shipped out to Afghanistan to tackle it,” Sam said. “And we got you.”

“How many teams are there?” John asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” Sam said. “At least a dozen. Most people get their training on one of the lead teams and then get to run their own. Once they get enough numbers, I know they hope to make the teams smaller, four or five at the most - one soldier, one spellmaster, one pretexter, and a lore master or a linguist or something.”

John shook his head. “I never realized -”

“We’re hoping to recruit from road hunters and maybe the Brotherhood and Sisterhood, down the road. Kinda like me and Dean.” Sam smiled.

John’s bluetooth came alive.

“We have a location,” Miko said. “Sending coordinates now.”

Dean stood up, but John shook his head. “Stay with him.”

Sam headed for the door. “I told Beckett to send anything to both of us.”

“Thanks, Sammy.” Dean sank back down, curled his hand over Lorne’s.

Sam and John barely managed to squeeze into a crowded elevator down to the basement.

As soon as they stepped out, Sam checked his phone. “It looks like he’s doing his work out of one of the unused rooms near the morgue.”

“No one would notice him wheeling dead bodies around,” John said. “Smart. Smarter than I’d like.”

“We’ll meet you there,” Vala said.

The worst thing about being in a hospital was that none of them could be as armed as they usually liked, but John, Sam, and Dean had managed to each keep a knife and a gun on them. John drew his pistol, signaled to Sam, and they converged on either side of the door Miko directed them to over the bluetooth.

The doors were swinging doors, which Miko reported opened outward. John took point, entered the room with his gun up, swung around.

“Clear!”

Sam followed him into the room. It looked like any other morgue, with freezers set into the wall, examination tables and gurneys, medical instruments along one gleaming counter, a couple of sinks. It was dim, so John flipped on a light.

And there - the bin was full of discarded body parts. What looked like a decaying liver, some other internal organs. Also a hand. The stitching around the wrist had been cut, but it did look precise, skilled.

“Bet it’s silk thread,” Sam said.

John nodded. He poked in the refrigerator and found - coolers. The red and white kind, like hospitals used to transport organs for transplantation.

“This is different.” Sam was studying what looked like a chemistry set a couple of centuries out of date, bubbling beakers, colorful liquids, a ceramic crucible with who knew what burnt in it. He snapped some photos and sent them to Miko.

“According to your father’s journal, Doc Benton was also an alchemist,” Miko said.

The door swung open.

John spun around, pistol at the ready, but it was just Vala and Rodney.

Rodney huffed. “Of course he’s not here.”

Sam glanced at John. “What’s the plan?”

“We split up, we canvass the place,” John said. “Start at the bottom, work our way up, other team does the opposite. Try to flush him out. Systematically, while Miko watches the security feeds. Miko, let us know if you spot him, okay?”

“Roger that,” Miko said.

“Sam, you’re with me,” John said. “Vala, take Rodney.”

Rodney shook his head. “You’re with me.”

“That makes no sense,” John said. “People will expect to see me with Sam. House is suspicious of me as it is. If I’m running around looking intense with someone other than Sam -”

“Your cover is blown as far as House is concerned,” Rodney said. “This monster is dangerous, strong, fast. Best to have one soldier on each team.”

Rodney was selling Vala very short on her combat skills. John opened his mouth to point out that he was the ranking military officer and combat decisions were his, not Rodney’s, even if Rodney was officially the team leader, but Sam said,

“Fine. Vala. Let’s go. We’ll start at the top.” And he ducked out of the room with Vala before John could call him on his blatant insubordination.

“Fine, Rodney, you’re with me.” John stepped out of the room just as Tiffany was stepping out of the actual morgue two doors down. There wasn’t enough time to hide or look nonchalant, and of course Tiffany spotted him immediately.

“John! What brings you down here?” She trotted toward him, smiling. “Come to see me again?” Her expression dimmed when Rodney loomed up beside John.

Before Rodney could say something that would blow John’s cover with Tiffany, Tiffany screamed.

John spun around, gun raised. Doc Benton was tall, pale, and terrifying in his billowing black coat. He knocked the gun out of John’s hand, slammed him into the wall. Tiffany screamed again.

Rodney shouted, fumbled to draw his gun. Doc Benton lunged at Rodney.

John’s head was spinning, but he was a soldier, had training. He stepped away from the wall and toward Doc Benton, drew his knife. Struck. Doc Benton faltered.

John shouted, “Run!”

Rodney spun out of Doc Benton’s grip, eyes wide. Doc Benton reached for him again.

“Dammit, Rodney, run!” John shouted. He backed up, leaving his knife in Doc Benton’s kidney, and scanned for his gun. He found it, dove for it. Scooped it up and rolled, fired even as he slid along the floor. Doc Benton roared.

John heard rapid footsteps. Rodney was running away, shouting for Miko and Vala and Sam as he went. Good. Rodney was escaping.

John leaped to his feet, gun steady. “Let’s find out how many bullets it takes to kill -”

Pain exploded across the back of John’s head, and his world went black. 

*

John awoke in darkness. He was lying down. His head ached. He was strapped to a cold, hard surface. It was hard to breathe.

“Damn all this dust,” Tiffany said. “Too bad his friends were so nosy, otherwise we could have kept on in the nicer facilities. But they won’t think to look here. No one will think to look here. You were right - they were watching on the security feeds. Best place to go? Where there’s no security feed.”

“Tiffany?” John asked.

“In the flesh. All my own flesh, for now. But Doc Benton is teaching me how to find replacements when the time comes, when I need them.”

John blinked. “I can’t see.”

“I did hit you pretty hard,” Tiffany said. “I’d say I hope the damage isn’t permanent, but you did a lot of nasty stuff to the good doctor, so as they say, an eye for an eye. Or a kidney for a kidney.”

“Is he ready?” The man’s voice was deep, creaking. Ancient.

“Just about. Want me to knock him out again, or…?”

“Let’s see how he likes, being cut open.”

John tried to struggle, but his limbs felt like they were filled with lead. He opened his mouth to scream, but he was gagged.

“You’re a very fine specimen, you know.” A cold, rough hand smoothed over John’s chest and ribs, and he realized he was naked. “For centuries I’ve subsisted on plain old humans, but a half-elf.” Callused fingers tweaked one of John’s ears. “This will be interesting.”

Rage burned through John, but it was thick and sluggish. It was hard to breathe, hard to think.

“Before I cut into you, though, I do need to know - how many of them are there? Who know about me.”

“You’ll have to take off his gag, first,” Tiffany said helpfully.

John felt the icy press of steel against his cheek, and then the cotton in his mouth was gone.

“How many, hunter boy?” Doc Benton hissed.

John swallowed hard. “I don’t know. I’m new at this. I swear. I -”

“I thought there was something familiar about those boys you were palling around with. The tall one is especially pretty. I like his eyes. But the shorter one - he favors a certain hunter who once cut out my heart with a chainsaw a couple of decades back. Hunting runs in families, doesn’t it?”

A chainsaw? John Winchester had cut this guy’s heart out with a chainsaw and he’d survived?

Terror began to creep its way down John’s spine.

“I counted six of them,” Tiffany said. “One woman, five men, including the sick guy in the bed.”

“If that one weren’t so very weak, I’d have chosen him. All the things he must have under his skin, to be so powerful even when he is so ill.” Doc Benton hummed, pleased.

John wanted to be sick.

That knife trailed down the side of his throat, over his collarbone, down his chest.

“How many?” Doc Benton asked.

“I don’t know.”

The knife pressed down.

It took a moment before the pain kicked in. At first all John felt was hot, sticky wetness. Blood. His own blood.

And then agony.

He couldn’t help it - he screamed.

Tiffany clamped a hand over his mouth. Doc Benton sliced again.

Gunfire exploded out of nowhere. Tiffany screamed. Doc Benton roared. John heard the rattle of chains, chaos.

“We got you, you bastard,” Dean snarled.

Doc Benton laughed, and the chains rattled again. “You cannot kill me. Your father failed, and so will you.”

“Maybe we can’t kill you,” Sam said, “but we can stop you.”

Dean recited, mockingly, “ _Ashes to ashes, bones to base, you’ll wither away in your resting place, eternity in a wooden case, we all fall down._ ”

Doc Benton roared again.

“Vala, little help,” Sam said.

John’s vision was graying out again.

“Leave her,” Rodney snapped. “She’s dead.”

Vala was dead? No, Tiffany. Rodney had to mean Tiffany.

“Rodney, cut him loose, he’s bleeding,” Miko said.

Rodney’s hands were warm, gentle.

“Don’t move him,” Miko warned. “John, I have to put pressure on the wound. This is going to hurt.”

“I think,” John said, blinking at Rodney, “I’ll need a bandaid.”

And his world went dark again. 

*

“That was incredibly stupid of you.”

John came awake slowly. There were beeping machines all around him. He was sore and sluggish. “What?”

John was lying in a hospital bed. Rodney was sitting beside him. On the other side of the room, Lorne was lying in his hospital bed, Dean slumped beside him, snoring. John was in Lorne’s hospital room.

“What happened?” John asked.

“A team of trauma surgeons saved your stupid life,” Rodney said. He was gazing at John very intently. Sam, John noticed, was pretzeled impossibly across two chairs and was also sleeping.

“Did we get him?”

“Sam and Vala buried Doc Benton outside of town. Old freezer, chained shut. He may never die, but he’s never killing again either.” Rodney’s tone was grimly satisfied. “Dean and Sam lied to the police admirably, said Tiffany had taken a shine to you and tried to kidnap you and, when she learned you were with Sam, she decided if she couldn’t have you no one could.”

John blinked, confused. “But the security footage -”

“Miko took care of it.” Rodney shook his head. “How could you be so stupid?”

“Didn’t realize Tiffany was an accomplice. No one else did either,” John protested.

“If I’d stayed, I could have helped you fend off Tiffany and the monster.” Rodney kept his voice low. “But you told me to run.”

“I ordered you to run, and for once, you obeyed. I’m the military commander of this unit, and in combat situations, you have to defer to me.” John didn’t hurt as much as he ought to, he suspected. There was an IV in the back of his hand. They were giving him the good stuff.

“Your combat decision was stupid, and we almost lost you.”

John shrugged one shoulder. “But we didn’t lose you.”

Irritation crossed Rodney’s face. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“All - sweet on me.”

John shrugged again. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be sweet on a beautiful man who’s a genius and incredibly brave and, when you were at your lowest, didn’t condemn and didn’t judge, who listened and believed?”

“I’m not beautiful,” Rodney said flatly.

“I think you’re are.”

“Well, we’ve established that you’re stupid.”

“Only you think I’m stupid.”

“I’m right.”

“And I’m right that you’re beautiful.” John smiled, pleased at his own logic.

Rodney scowled at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“But you like me anyway.”

Rodney sighed. “That I do.” And he leaned in and kissed John.

The kiss was soft, warm, perfect. John felt like he could float away, pleasure humming beneath his skin, tingling along his limbs. He smiled and kissed Rodney back, and then Rodney was leaning over him, threading his clever pianist fingers through John’s hair, stroking the nape of his neck, and -

“Finally, I made it past that beast of a doctor.”

Rodney yanked himself back.

John made a noise of protest.

The man standing in the doorway was wearing a heavy coat, carrying a black medical bag, and had blue eyes beneath the brim of his tam and above the line of his scarf. His heavy Scottish brogue was muffled by said scarf. He tugged off his tam, eyebrows raised.

“Apologies. Should I go back outside, let you two finish your moment?”

“Beckett,” Rodney growled.

Beckett frowned. “I was under the impression that it was Captain Lorne who -”

John pointed to the other bed.

“Oh, dear. What happened to you, Major?”

“Monster. Knife. You know how it is,” John said, attempting a smile.

“No, I don’t, because like a sane person I stay out of the field.” Beckett bustled over to Lorne’s bed. “We’d best get out of here as soon as possible, before these civilian doctors get strange ideas and kill poor Evan.”

“Let me get some clothes,” John began, because he was wearing a stupid hospital gown, but Beckett shook his head.

“You need to stay overnight, let that wound close some more. I can throw in a healing cantrip to get you on your feet, but after that you’ll need to rest. No more hunting for at least four weeks.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

“Doctor, actually.” Beckett smiled at him. “Carson Beckett.”

“Doctor.” John smiled back.

Beckett went to wake Dean and fuss over Lorne.

“So,” John said, “does this mean you’re going to stop being all cranky at everyone, but especially me, Dean, and Lorne?”

Rodney frowned. “I haven’t been cranky.”

John raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, fine, maybe a little cranky. But listen, I’m not good at relationships, and I’m sure I won’t compare to the supermodels you’ve dated, or whatever -”

“Rodney, all along, what I’ve wanted is _you_.” John tugged him in for another kiss.

He fell asleep with Rodney holding his hand.

He drifted in and out of sleep for hours, heard the rest of the team and Beckett coming and going. In the morning, Beckett performed some simple magic on John - a paste over the wound, a spell - and then it was time to go. Beckett pulled some kind of military rank on House and his team, who protested mightily against their patients being transferred. Cameron and Chase were concerned about John’s injury reopening. Foreman was concerned about hospital policy. House was displeased because Lorne’s case was actually interesting.

Between Beckett, Rodney, Vala, Miko, Sam, and Dean, John and Lorne made it safely onto the bus. Lorne got the bigger bunk in the back, so Dean could be with him, and John got the lower bunk in the middle so he could sleep some more.

Rodney ended up squished in beside him, though. John didn’t mind, because Rodney was warm, and he was close.

Vala and Miko were driving and navigating while Sam helped Beckett do research, and John thought that being home at the Bunker for Christmas with Rodney would be the best Christmas gift ever. John had just about fallen asleep when Rodney’s cell phone rang.

Rodney fumbled for it, pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Rodney.”

John opened his eyes. It was Daniel Jackson.

“What?” Rodney grumbled.

“I think I found the way to Atlantis.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the end of Season One! Season Two will be back next year, for the 2017 Shoobie Monster Fest.
> 
> Dean's quote from "A Gorey Demise" by Creature Feature.


End file.
